


Three Times Tad Really Should Have Left Stephen (And One Time He Did, And One Time He Didn’t)

by queenfanfiction



Category: Colbert Report FPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenfanfiction/pseuds/queenfanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Tad Really Should Have Left Stephen (And One Time He Did, And One Time He Didn’t)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/gifts).



> Written for Yuletide 2010 for Tish. Beta credit JESUS: jones6 of LJ &hearts! (Mel, there is a reason I’m not using your DW/AO3 handle to credit you, LOL.)

**one**

On the first day at his new place of employment, Tad arrived early and dressed in his best suit because he’s always believed in making a good first impression.

He hadn’t expected _The Colbert Report_ studios to be that big on the inside, or that hectic. People were shouting orders at each other across long corridors and between offices; more people were dashing back and forth from room to room and nearly knocking Tad over several times in the process.

And then Tad walked right into the best-dressed man of them all, and they both crashed to the ground in a flurry of papers and a flood of hot Starbucks coffee.

“ _GODDAMMIT!_ ” yelled the man, knocking Tad back to the floor as he scrambled for his overturned cup. “Who the hell do you think you are, knocking me over—spilling my precious coffee like that? Huh?”

“Sorry, sorry, so sorry,” Tad babbled, trying to mop up the mess with the loose papers on the ground. “I’m the new building manager, I was just looking for Mr. Colbert—”

“Well, you’ve found me, haven’t you!” Stephen Colbert pointed an angry finger at Tad’s head. “First of all, from now on, you will address me as ‘sir.’ Second, take off your jacket and use that to clean up this mess you made. No licking any of it, either! Third, you will go back to Starbucks this _instant_ and get me a triple-shot peppermint latte with whole milk and extra spice, otherwise your job is going straight into the sky! Understood?”

And that was how Tad learned not to get between Stephen and his first cup of coffee in the morning. (His suit was forever ruined, but Tad kept it in the back of his closet because it kept his whole apartment smelling like Christmas and reminded him why he should have probably left his job before he’d even started.)

 

 **two**

Tad knew he was a fool when he’d agreed to run and tape Stephen’s stupid “Emergency Evacuation Plan.” He also knew he was a damn coward when he snapped Toby’s neck at Stephen’s order—but he was just the building manager and Stephen his pretty-much-omnipotent boss, so what could he _do,_ really?

But he only realized what a first-class idiot he was once Stephen lured him into the Colbunker, locked him inside, and (despite his feeble protests via satellite feed) left him there to rot without heat or food or fucking _anything._

It was Bobby who finally let him out after a week, kind-hearted Bobby who knew how to keep Stephen happy while doing everything their boss hated behind said boss’ back. It was Bobby who half-carried a weakened Tad out of the Colbunker and led him back to Bobby’s own apartment, where Tad found all of his pets, well-fed but lonely, already waiting for him.

“Look, don’t get me wrong,” Bobby began while Tad greedily slurped his way through two cans of chicken soup and a whole loaf of French bread. “Stephen’s got a good heart, but he usually doesn’t stop to think and then—” Bobby gestured vaguely in Tad’s direction. “Anyway. What I’m saying is, you’re a nice guy and I like you, but if you want to leave first and quit later I’m not going to stop you. Hell, I’ll even buy you the ticket out of this town if you need it.”

Tad shivered and leaned against Bobby, who obligingly pulled him closer. “I ‘ppreciate it,” he mumbled into Bobby’s shoulder, and Tad fell asleep to the sensation of Bobby rubbing his back protectively.

 

 **three**

Tad stumbled into the men’s bathroom and collapsed heavily against the sink, his stomach weakly heaving until nothing but the taste of bile was left in his mouth. He’d barely made it through the taping before he’d begged to be excused, dashing out before Stephen could give his permission—

—Stephen, his fingers dripping in blood-red barbeque sauce, with the half-eaten bone almost all the way to his lips—

Tad retched into the sink again and again. Bobby, poor Bobby, Saint Bobby of _The Colbert Report,_ was dead. Eaten by one’s own boss in a sudden endorsement of cannibalism was a death deserved by any martyr, and especially by one as kind, as sweet (oh God, _sweet_ ), as caring as Bobby had always been to every single one of them.

Tad finally looked up at his haggard and wild-eyed reflection in the mirror, and for a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of Bobby’s wild hair disappearing past his shoulder before he was once again alone.

“Bobby,” Tad choked. “Bobby, I—”He couldn’t make himself finish the sentence before he burst into loud sobs.

Whether he meant to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you,” Tad was never quite sure. It was probably more than a little bit of both.

 

 **four**

It was hardly a day since Tad came back from finding an eagle girlfriend for Stephen Junior (his face still stinging from the deep scratches that blasted bird gave him during the struggle to get the eagle into the Taurus’ trunk—if Stephen hadn’t needed the bird alive so badly, Tad would have been sorely tempted to make fried eagle for dinner, endangered species or not) when Stephen called Tad into the office.

Tad never expected much out of Stephen Colbert, but he’d at least expect a “good work” or “glad you made it back alive” from the man, if not a simple “thank you.” Of course, Stephen said none of these.

“She wasn’t good enough,” Stephen declared from behind his desk. “Stephen Junior can only have the best. We had to send her back.”

“What?” Tad thought he might faint. “But—but we still have to tape—”

Stephen cut Tad off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll find you something else for the taping tonight—the audience’s going to love it.”

Which was how Tad found himself uncovering a live chicken in a cage in front of a studio audience that afternoon. The audience did indeed love it, as Stephen had predicted, but Stephen hadn’t predicted the burning humiliation Tad felt as the audience laughed and laughed at Tad’s feigned ignorance.

Stephen called Tad into the office again that night, this time all beaming and smiles. “It was perfect!” he enthused. “Keep this up and the ratings are going to go through the roof! Now, I’ve got another assignment for you. You’re going eagle-hunting in Canada! I hear it’s still legal over there since they don’t care how many of our national mascots they kill! I’ve got the rental-car reservations all made, and I had the interns chip in for a nice little sleeping bag—”

For the first time in years, something in Tad suddenly snapped.

“No,” he said, at first so quietly that Stephen ignored him and kept right on talking, then much louder to cut through his boss’ monologue. “ _No._ ”

Stephen stopped and blinked, clearly surprised. “What did you say?”

Tad took a deep breath, feeling heady from having said so much. “I said, ‘no,’” he said. “Goodbye, Stephen.”

And then Tad got up from his chair and walked out of Stephen’s office without another word. Stephen was too thunderstruck to stop him.

(Though, Tad thought as he cleaned out his apartment and packed and finally turned out the lights for the last time, maybe he wouldn’t have minded so much if Stephen had tried.)

 

 **and a half**

It’s been years since Tad left, but he still remembers the layout of the studio as if it had been carved into the back of his hand. (For all he knows, it could very well have been at one point. There are still blackouts in his memory from his time here that even the best of his therapists can’t unlock, and maybe it’s better that way.)

Before, if someone had told him that he’d be walking into the studio of his own volition, Tad would have shuddered and asked if said person was feeling all right. But now that he’s here (brushing past a wild-eyed young woman and a headphoned stage manager, both carrying clipboards and looking like the Devil himself is after them—it makes him think of Meg and Bobby, and Tad has to work not to cry), it’s almost like returning to one’s family after a long trip overseas, when you’ve seen all the sights and tasted all the wonders and yet all you can think about is how much better you can get it not twenty minutes from your parents’ place.

Coming back to _The Colbert Report_...surprisingly, it feels like coming home again. Tad isn’t sure if that makes him insane or masochistic or just plain stupid, but maybe that doesn’t really matter in the end.

The taping is already over, and Tad expects Stephen’s office to be deserted by now. But when Tad quietly lets himself in, he finds Stephen asleep at his desk, head pillowed on his arms, his glasses knocked wildly askew as he snores softly. Stephen’s clearly aged—with more gray in his hair, more wrinkles around his eyes, he is no longer the young ambitious correspondent from _The Daily Show_ who could glare any of his new employees into submission; and Tad feels no fear as he watches Stephen sleep, though he does feel more than a twinge of pity for the man.

Tad sneaks closer on tiptoes and carefully pulls off Stephen’s glasses, setting them on Stephen’s desk and out of harm’s way. Then, on instinct, Tad moves his hand and gently brushes back the unruly hair that is threatening to fall into Stephen’s eyes now that the glasses are gone—

—but he doesn’t expect Stephen to start awake at his touch, jerking back and upwards in his chair until the two of them are staring at each other in surprise.

Stephen is the first to clear his throat and speak. “Oh,” he says, trying to sound gruff and failing miserably. “You came back.”

Tad hides his smile. “Don’t I always?”


End file.
